


Where Credit is Due

by andveryginger



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, give the poor man a holster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finally receives a holster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Credit is Due

**Author's Note:**

> For this, I completely blame Nathan Page. Well, I partially blame Nathan Page. The rest of the blame stays with you lot. ;)
> 
> I suspect there will be a part two, as I don't believe the muses are finished with this one. 
> 
> Rated T- for some suggestions, but nothing terribly overt.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson whistled a jaunty tune as he entered his office at City South. Removing coat and hat, he hung them on the tree behind him, brow furrowing as he looked to his desk. A moderately-sized brown box sat on his blotter, the lid secured with twine. The card atop was addressed to him.

Curious, Jack reached for the letter opener in his top drawer. He sliced the pale envelope across the crease, then withdrew the card. “Inspector” had been written and crossed out, as had “Jack,” both in Constable Hugh Collins’ quasi-legible hand. He finally settled on “Sir.”

“Sir,” the note read, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly thank you. Your help and advice are the reason we’re here today. I can only hope that this shows at least part of my appreciation. With regard – Hugh.”

A small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. Short, simple, and to the point – that was Collins… though he, himself, was to blame in some small part. He’d been the young man’s mentor and – dare he say it? – father figure for a number of years. Hugh had picked up at least a few of his habits. Efficient communication was one of the good ones.

Placing the note aside, Jack used the letter opener to cut the twine. It snapped easily with a nudge from the blade and loosened its grip on the box. Shifting the twine away, he removed the lid. Inside lay a mass of leather straps, buckles, and grommets, beneath which he found a brown, formed-leather holster.

His lopsided twitch became a full grin. “Collins!”

The junior officer appeared in his doorway not ten seconds later. A wary expression graced his features. “Sir?”

Jack held up the holster as he slipped his revolver into it experimentally. It fit perfectly. “This is really brilliant. Thank you, Hugh…though you really didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”

A small smile played across Collins’ features, a pencil twirling in his fingers with a touch of nervous energy as he approached. “It’s traditionally accepted for the groom to provide a token of appreciation for his groomsmen – _groomsman_.” His voice made it sound as though he were reciting from memory.

“So few things about Dottie and me are _traditional_ these days,” he continued, “I… I just wanted to make sure I got it right.”

The inspector placed the holstered weapon onto his desk. “Very useful, and very timely. I was just thinking something like this would be a sound investment – especially after that chase last week.”

“Yes, sir,” Collins said. “I thought it might be.”

The constable had been only peripherally involved in the chase last week, as Jack grabbed a bicycle from a bystander, taking off after a particularly fast suspect; Miss Fisher rounded the the next block in her Hispano-Suiza. The suspect was essentially cut off and the inspector, executing a flying tackle better than most of the Abbotsford boys that season, took him down. Having tucked his service revolver in the waistband of his trousers, however, the cylinder had left quite a bruise on his gut afterward, the barrel and front sight leaving their own impressions far too close to a more sensitive location…not that Collins was ever to know that.

“Well, I mean, after Miss Fisher suggested it.”

Jack blinked, his throat suddenly constricting. He coughed to clear it. “Miss Fisher?”

“Yes, sir,” the constable said. “I guess Dottie mentioned to her I was having trouble figuring out what to get you and, when I stopped in on Friday, she offered it as a suggestion. She said it would be a gift both you and she could – what was the word she used? – _appreciate_.”

The inspector fought the heat that crept up his neck. Collins may not have known about the bruises, but Phryne certainly did. She had, in fact, kissed the pain – and a lot of other things – away that night. He vaguely remembered a comment about protecting _his_ appreciable assets before the evening faded into even more pleasant activities. The blush stole across his cheeks. She knew he would remember.

“Yes, well… I’ll have to thank Miss Fisher for her suggestion.” He cleared his throat again. “Now, should we get back to these reports?”

“Of course, sir.” Giving another flickering smile, Hugh launched into a summary of the paperwork he’d been completing and would soon have in for review. If he noticed his inspector seemed a bit distant, he didn’t ask why. It was probably better that way, Jack reflected. His plans to ‘thank’ the maid of honor were best not discussed outside the sanctity of the boudoir. It was best, after all, to give credit where it was due.


End file.
